Old Faces, New Beginnings
by Silver Vox
Summary: Six years down the road, Tezuka comes across an old teammate in the strangest way possible.


 **Author's Note** : _The author would like to confess that she has no idea what the fuck she's doing with this pairing_. No, really. I first watched PoT when I was 12 or something and completely oblivious to the joys and pains of shipping. I only re-watched because I'd never finished it and vaguely recalled enjoying the reality-defying tennis. Then bang! pillar pair happened and I got hooked and oh my god what am I doiiingg

Also, sorry about the lameass title. It was the best I could do. Prompt from .com

* * *

There were days when Kunimitsu hated Atobe Keigo.

Their friendship was an odd one, considering that they were polar opposites in nearly everything. But Atobe was persistent and remarkably thick-skinned, and sometime between junior high and high school, Kunimitsu had given up and accepted that no amount of stoic silence or glaring would make Atobe leave him be. He wasn't a bad friend and usually seemed to know when to back off but it nonetheless remained true that Kunimitsu liked Atobe best from far away, preferably with a week or two between each phone call.

Case in point, he was currently stranded in a sea of strangers in some high end bar while Atobe, who'd dragged him here in the first place, was off doing gods knew what with Jirou, who'd shot Kunimitsu a far too cheerful smile before following his boyfriend. Atobe had claimed that he needed to 'go out more' and 'meet people'. Kunimitsu's protests had naturally fallen on deaf ears.

Sadly, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened and so he was quite practiced at finding a relatively quiet spot and waiting for the others to return. He would be content doing the same now were it not for the very drunk, _very_ flirtatious man who was simultaneously attempting to talk Kunimitsu's ear off and grope him.

So, yes, this was one of those days when he hated Atobe.

He had thought himself sufficiently hidden in the shadow of a stone pillar, away from the dance floor and the blaring music. Clearly, he was wrong.

Kunimitsu subtly edged away from the man, ignoring his words with practiced ease. The first lousy pick-up line had been more than enough to convince him that there was nothing worth hearing in the drunken spiel. He wanted to leave, he _should_ leave, but a blend of pride and politeness kept him there. Besides, this was such a good spot and he really didn't want to venture into the throng of writhing bodies populating the dance floor. The bar was hardly any more appealing.

But if Casanova here tried to feel him up _one more time_ , he'd be out the door and away from this hell. He could deal with Atobe later. It wouldn't be the first time.

And sure enough, the man inched closer to Kunimitsu, one arm reaching towards him, and he stepped hastily away from the wall and right into someone who caught him around the shoulders with a sound suspiciously like a chuckle.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," A voice spoke right by his ear, familiar yet not. There was a pause and then, "Kunimitsu."

Kunimitsu started at his uncertain utterance of his name and turned to see the owner of that voice. Golden eyes met his, bright even in the dim lights of the club, and he had to blink in shock at the cocky grin that greeted him from a face that was older and markedly more angular than the last time he'd laid eyes on Echizen Ryoma.

He could only stand frozen as the arm on his shoulder slid down to wrap around his waist. Echizen stepped forward so that he was standing beside Kunimitsu rather than behind him. The hand around his waist tightened.

Too shocked to react, Kunimitsu stared at Echizen, who had somehow grown taller than him in the last five years and had grown his hair long enough to fit into a ponytail at the back of his neck. He wasn't sure but he thought he saw a silver hoop on Echizen's ear.

Most of them had lost touch with Echizen after middle school. He'd returned to America and Kunimitsu had later heard Momoshiro say that Echizen would wait until after high school to go pro. Kunimitsu hadn't forgotten him, that was impossible considering how intertwined Echizen and tennis were in his mind, but the images he had were of a stubborn boy with burning eyes who barely reached his chest, not…this.

"Who the hell are you?" The drunk man's hostile question jolted Kunimitsu back to his senses just in time to catch the meaningful glance Echizen shot in his direction.

"His boyfriend," Echizen replied, as effortlessly infuriating as ever, "Who the hell are _you_?"

It took all of Kunimitsu's considerable self control to not gape like a fool. Still, he was smart enough not to give away the lie and made an attempt to lean into Echizen. It was awkward and he felt far too warm all of a sudden. He didn't know exactly what to feel about this impromptu rescue and the fact that it was Echizen of all people only made more confusing.

When had he even come to Japan?

He tried to not stare too conspicuously at his former teammate as the drunken man ignored the question entirely in favor of gaping incredulously, eyes darting between Echizen and Kunimitsu.

"He didn't mention any boyfriend," he said, staring accusingly at Kunimitsu, who merely blinked in response. He saw no need to point out that he had barely said two words during the entire course of their unfortunate encounter.

"So?" Echizen replied, nonchalant and not so subtly mocking.

"So I call bullshit," was the answer. The man pointed a wobbly finger at Echizen. "Fuck off, we were talking here."

Kunimitsu considered himself a calm, rational individual who was very much _not_ prone to impulsive actions. But the night had been taxing, from Atobe's unannounced and unwanted appearance on his doorstep to the torturous time spent playing wallflower in the club while some drunkard tried to get into his pants, and his patience was quite possibly at its limit. At least that's what he told himself as he gave into his frayed nerves and turned to Echizen, grabbing his face and pulling him into an uncoordinated kiss.

He felt Echizen's shock in the gasp against his lips but it lasted only a moment before warm lips pressed firmly against his, both of Echizen's arms circling around his waist and pulling Kunimitsu tight against the other's body. It felt nice, to be held like that, and he was somewhat surprised to find himself slipping his free hand into Echizen's hair. Then a tongue traced his lips and deftly dipped into his mouth, and Kunimitsu's mind gave up thinking.

The kiss quickly turned heated, teeth nipping and tongues twining, turning Kunimitsu's blood to liquid fire and stealing his breath until he was gasping into Echizen's mouth. Their hips pressed together, sending shock flashing through his body, and Kunimitsu tore his mouth away, panting like he'd ran a hundred laps around the tennis court. Echizen's face was a few inches from his, gold eyes impossibly wide as they stared dazedly at Kunimitsu. They were still holding onto each other, and for some reason, he didn't want that to change.

A quick glance confirmed that the man who'd been bothering him had made himself scarce. Good riddance.

"I wasn't aware you had returned." His voice was embarrassingly breathy and he was suddenly grateful to the dim lighting for –hopefully- hiding his flushed face.

Echizen blinked and those hazy eyes regained their sharpness. That familiar smirk returned, bringing a tiny smile to Kunimitsu's lips.

"My cousin's getting married. She lives here."

"Ah."

He felt a pang of regret when Echizen stepped away, fingertips trailing along Kunimitsu's waist as they withdrew. His own hands left the other's hair regretfully. Despite the new distance, the air between them felt heavy and charged. Echizen inclined his head towards the exit in a clear question and Kunimitsu spared one fleeting thought towards Atobe before nodding.

It was a relief when they finally stepped outside, away from the press of bodies and into relatively fresh air. He shot Echizen a look and wasn't surprised to find him looking back intently.

"It was strange using your name, buchou," Echizen said after several moments of silent staring.

"I'm not your captain anymore, Echizen." Kunimitsu didn't mention that he found the awkward way Echizen had called his name oddly endearing. He was not one to simply _say_ things like that.

"Heh, true."

More silence. More staring. Not awkward but not comfortable either. They were standing a little to the side of the club's front, away from the lights and the people. The night city provided enough illumination for them to see each other.

Kunimitsu cleared his throat and said, "Thank you for your… for back there." And now he was uncomfortable. The kiss, which had felt natural and perfect back then was now a mildly mortifying memory that he had no idea how to address. Should he? Or was it to be forgotten and never mentioned again? That last option was rather distressing for reasons he was unprepared to examine just yet.

Echizen now seemed amused. His smirk grew even wider.

"Why didn't you just walk away, buchou?"

"I was going to."

"Hn. Anyway, no need to thank me. It was my pleasure."

Kunimitsu was going to resolutely ignore the way Echizen purred the last word. His sanity depended on it. Of all the ways he expected to meet Echizen again, this was most definitely not it. In fact, most of his idle musings involved tennis courts and rackets and the familiar exhilaration that always accompanied playing the so called prince of tennis. He had missed that fiercely.

"Buchou? Buchou!"

A touch on his shoulder tore him from his thoughts and all of a sudden, Echizen was too close, firmly stationed in his personal space. And before Kunimitsu could so much as breathe, they were kissing. It was chaste, closed lips pressing against his frozen mouth for one long moment before pulling away. Not too far though, and Echizen's breath fell on his skin when he whispered, "Ku-ni-mit-su. That will take some getting used to."

Kunimitsu opened his mouth but no words were forthcoming. He settled for shutting off the more rational part of his mind and leaning forward to peck at the corner of Echizen's mouth. Something warm and light flared to life in his chest when he felt lips curling into a smile under his.

"My hotel's not far. Come with me?"

He jerked back at Echizen- or should it be Ryoma now?- but his instinctual protest was cut off when Echi- _Ryoma_ covered his mouth with his hand and said, "Just to talk. Y'know, catch up. I promise I have no designs on your virtue."

Perhaps Kunimitsu was only paranoid but he thought he could hear a silent 'for now' at the end of that sentence. That Ryoma's smile was reminiscent of Fuji's default expression didn't help.

None of that stopped him from nodding in acquiescence.

* * *

I'd kinda forgotten how nerve-wrecking it is to venture into an established fandom. Welp. My apologies to anyone who subscribed to me for the hannigram fics and got tennis instead of cannibalism.

I found it very odd to use 'Kunimitsu' instead of 'Tezuka'. Maybe next time I'll try Ryoma's POV. _If_ there's a next time.


End file.
